


The Arbalest's Story

by bellepeppertronix



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Mention of Animal Death, Mention of Racism, Other, Pseudo-Historical Setting, Pseudo-History
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:02:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22446847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellepeppertronix/pseuds/bellepeppertronix
Summary: “I was just a little girl, when my father gave this to me,” she said, hefting the heavy arbalest.“My father was taken as a force conscript, during the war,” she explained. “They came to his town and took anyone who was a believer of the Light, put weapons into their hands, and told them they were now soldiers.”She looked distant for a moment. “Of course, he he never spoke of this. I learned this all only in fits and snatches during my childhood, and it was only later that I was able to stitch the patches together to form a whole piece."!!! IMPORTANT NOTICE!!! If you read this on a paid app, you have been swindled! It is originally hosted on archiveofourown.org and can be searched and read there FOR FREE!!!Please come visit the website and comment, and let me know if that is how you found me!
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14
Collections: The Candlemaker's Apprentice (And Company)





	The Arbalest's Story

“I was just a little girl, when my father gave this to me,” she said, hefting the heavy arbalest.  
“My father was taken as a force conscript, during the war,” she explained. “They came to his town and took anyone who was a believer of the Light, put weapons into their hands, an told them they were now soldiers.”  
She looked distant for a moment. “Of course, he he never spoke of this. I learned this all only in fits and snatches during my childhood, and it was only later that I was able to stitch the patches together to form a whole piece. 

“I didn’t know any of this, when I was a little girl; I only knew that we were the only brown faces in a sea of white, an I did not ask why, for that was simply the way it had always been. My mother n my father were older when my mother had me, and they treated me like I was a treasure—I am sure, to them, I was. Neither had any family in the area, but both were good friends with the chapel brothers.  
I did not understand why my father always went alone into town, and always with his heavy crossbow, or why I was not allowed play out of sight of my parents. 

You see I ha this cocoon of innocence which they worked very hard to keep up around me, so that I, at least, might have some happiness. And I was happy! My parents had their small farm and while we were not rich, we weren’t starving, either. 

Everything change the summer I was eight. The cattle sickened one after another, and many died, before whatever sickness it was crossed over to humans, and they began to die, as well. This was how I lost my mother. She…she didn’t suffer long—the fever killed her in only three days.  
The fact that she had died to the sickness did not stop the other townspeople from turning on us, though. They were convinced that WE were the ones who had spread this plague, and they meant to punish us for it. 

They came in the night, with torches and pitchforks. My father had been out bundling the last of our wheat an I was laying in bed waiting for him to come and tuck me in an and tell me a story, if he would.  
I remember hearing a strange noise--a sound of many voice, raised and shouting. Then my father came through the front door, clutching his stomach. I had never seen him hurt--I didn’t know he COULD be hurt. Children are like that, with their parents…they think them invincible until they are cruelly proven otherwise.” she stopped a moment, wiped her eyes and nose, an then continued.

“He must have been grievously wounded. Outside I could hear his mule screaming in terror as the voices grew louder—there were dogs barking, people shouting.  
He ran to the chest where he kept his crossbow, then came and pulled me out of bed. I remember I didn’t even have time to put shoes on; I stood there on the cold floor clutching my only treasure in the world, asking him what was going on.

He told me there was no time to explain or talk. He told me to go out the back door, and take the berry-picking trail my mother an I had always used, which ran out to a little wooded area behind the chapel. He told me not to stop or look back, no matter what I heard.  
I begged him to come with me. He shook his head, taking my toy rabbit from me and instead pressing his crossbow into my hands. I had never even held it; its weight seemed too much to bear, back then.  
His last touch was a hug; he kissed my forehead hard, made me promise never to part with the crossbow, that I might be safe. 

Then he pushed me out the back door and I ran. I ran along the berry-path, with the brambles cutting at my legs and the cold earth numbing my feet. i heard a terrifying whooshing sound, like an immense load of kindling being dropped onto a bonfire, and by then I was too afraid to look back. I ran until I thought my lungs would burst, but I didn’t dare slow down until I was climbing over the low stone wall at the back of the chapel, until the Brother who was tending the candles saw me and took me in.  
I later learned that the fever plague had spread along the coach highroads and killed hundreds; the people were turning on their neighbors, burning people as witches and warlocks, and hunting down anyone with a brown face. 

“I was lucky; the chapel Brothers and Sisters secreted me out of the country and away from the danger, and I ended up in a chapel home for orphans, in the east. There, the sisters raised me, and there, when the later crusades came through, I fought to defend our town. I came back to this land to try and find what I could of my old home--but I could not find it. In the place where I remember it being, the wilderness has already reclaimed whatever cleared plot there was.” she wipe her eyes, finally. “Maybe you consider this to be nothing more than a trifle,” she said, holding the small stuffed toy rabbit, “But to me it is a treasure, worth more than its weight in silver and gold.”


End file.
